


a heavy heart to carry

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Healing, M/M, Therapy, hints of byleth and felix and lorenz, imagine a claude who can talk to someone about his parents' borderline abuse, imagine a dimitri who is able to be correctly diagnosed and medicated, that's it that's the fic, though they are never mentioned by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Dimiclaude week, day two: "Modern"Six months after a mental breakdown, Dimitri meets Claude in his therapist's waiting room.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 37
Kudos: 431





	a heavy heart to carry

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to [asael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael) for coming up with this AU prompt and giving me permission to write it!

He seems sweet.

Not that Dimitri has ever really spoken to him. But every time he sees him here, the other man always offers him a wry smile, sometimes even with a quick thumbs-up that always seems to boost Dimitri’s mood despite the location.

He sees him every week. Not at both of his weekly appointments, just the ones on Sundays, but the other man must keep the same therapy schedule he does on those days. It’s nice to meet his eyes and have a small bit of silent companionship before going through the large door of his therapist’s office, and it’s… less nice when he comes out of it, emotionally rocked, and sees the man again, similarly shaken and lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk.

Neither of them make eye contact going out. They give one another space, which is probably for the best. Dimitri finds his thoughts drifting back toward him in his free time, when he’s at home with nothing to do except binge watch whatever latest show is available and idly flex at one of his many stress balls. Not good for stress, but the repetitive motion feels nice.

He wonders what the man might be there for. What he might talk about. He wonders if it would be rude to try to introduce himself - probably. He wonders -

“Have you reached out to your friends since the incident?”

Dimitri blinks and finds himself back in the office. Of course. This is a Sunday, he’d seen the other man in the waiting room. He’d grinned and winked and Dimitri had only managed a small smile in return.

He frowns, trying to recall the question as he shifts uncomfortably, not meeting his therapist’s eyes.

“No.”

She nodded. She was quite pretty really, a soft face with a cutely pointed chin and large, expressive eyes. Her red-rimmed glasses hung low on her nose so that when she looked at Dimitri from over the frames, it seemed a bit more severe.

“Are you afraid of what they might say?”

Dimitri offers a halfhearted shrug, glancing out the window. After she lets him sit in silence for a few moments longer, he sighs and answers the question verbally.

“No. I just… it’s awkward. I don’t think that they really know much about me anymore.”

She nods, sympathetic.

“It can be hard to remain friends after changes in your life. What happened was scary - for you and for them. It’s important to be respectful of their boundaries, but you shouldn’t isolate yourself either.”

“I’m not isolating myself,” Dimitri said, frowning.

She looks at him as if to say _I know you better than that_ , and Dimitri sinks lower in his seat, uncomfortable with the way that the conversation is turning. He takes a deep breath, tries again.

“...okay. How do I respect their boundaries without being alone all the time?”

“That’s a good question,” she answers, her gaze softening, “and I think there are a few ways to break that down. Firstly, reaching out to them is not breaking a boundary unless they’ve asked you not to - and they haven’t, right?”

Dimitri shakes his head.

“Good. Just asking if they want to hang out or talk is a good start. If they say no, you should respect that, but also understand that they need to heal as well. Don’t take a rejection personally.”

“Alright.” Not that he’s particularly great with that last part, but it makes sense. “So if they say no then I’m back to square one.”

“I also think it might benefit you to try and make some new friends,” she offers, smiling, “meeting someone new is like a clean slate. They don’t have to replace your old ones, but it might be nice to get to know someone who you can feel more comfortable around.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable around anyone,” Dimitri murmurs under his breath - an aside, but one that she catches and his sulkiness makes her smile grow just a bit brighter.

“Maybe you haven’t met the right person yet. Maybe that will be your homework for this week: introduce yourself to one new person. Do you think you’re up for that?”

Dimitri nods, a jerky motion of his chin and she continues.

“Good. Now, I’d like to talk about your new medication…”

_

He gets the opportunity sooner than he thought he might. Dimitri walks out of his therapist’s office awhile later and emerges into the waiting room - and _he’s_ there. Dimitri recognizes the back of his shoulders by the coat he wears, a puffy tan jacket.

Dimitri makes a move to walk past him, but the conversation he’d had in there comes back to him and he hesitates. Part of him doesn’t want to rattle this guy, doesn’t want to risk ruining what they have (which is... a nod, once a week, but at this point in his life, Dimitri takes what he can get).

But then again, he thinks, this is the only other person that he has even a mild rapport with. If he can’t start here, where _can_ he start?

“Um…” he interjects, quiet, unimposing.

The guy turns toward him from where he’d been tapping on his phone, and Dimitri immediately notices that he’s crying. Or well - he’s trying _not_ to cry, with redness rimming around his glistening eyes and at the tip of his nose.

“Oh - I’m sorry,” he suddenly finds himself trying to explain, backing off with a quiet hand up, “I just - sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

To what? Get his attention? Distract him from whatever it is he’s going through? Dimitri doesn’t know how to finish that sentence and so he goes silent, flushing from embarrassment.

Without consideration for his awkwardness, the man smiles, a friendly, crooked thing and takes a deep, sniffling breath in through his nose.

“No apology necessary, my friend. What can I do for you?”

Even more awkward now, because Dimitri doesn’t have a good answer for that. Instead, he looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. Relax. Just try to be comfortable. This guy doesn’t know anything about him, he doesn’t have to feel self conscious.

“I, uh,” he starts, stops because he doesn’t know what he’s going to say, and then tentatively starts again, “I just wanted to… introduce myself. My name’s Dimitri. I see you in here sometimes and I thought that… I could…”

Dimitri tapers off awkwardly. The guy seems to understand, or at least have enough sympathy for him to offer him some kind of life raft, because he nods.

“Yeah, I recognize you! Nice to meet you, for real - I’m Claude. Did you just finish up in there?”

He tips his head toward the door of the office and Dimitri nods sheepishly in affirmation, hoping that Claude doesn’t know too much about the specialist here. As far as he knows, the other two therapists that use the waiting room are more of the typical sort: one is a pediatric and family specialist, and the other, he thinks, works more with veterans - at least, he’s seen some of them in here before.

The whole point of this was to meet someone who _doesn’t_ know about his history, and so maybe choosing someone who sees him every time he visits his therapist for antipsychotic maintenance is a bad idea.

Claude doesn’t seem to notice Dimitri’s discomfort though, and offers a soft laugh.

“Yeah, me too. Really stresses me right out. I’ve always just gotta take the rest of the day off, you know?”

“Yeah…” Dimitri rubs at his arm awkwardly and tries to gather up every scrap of courage he has. “Do you want to, um, get a coffee? I usually go to the bakery down the street after my appointments - I mean, sorry, I just, you seem like a decent guy and I -”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Claude interrupts, holding a hand up to cut off his rambling. “And I’d love to - really I would, but I’ve got an Uber headed for me. Maybe another time? Next time you catch me in a state of emotional vulnerability, how ‘bout it?”

It’s… a rejection, but it doesn’t really feel like one. There’s always that impulse to turn inward, to curse himself for even _thinking_ that someone like Claude could… to curse himself for being too forward, coming on too strong, but something about the way Claude smiles here, regretful but reassuring all at the same time, makes Dimitri feel like maybe he means it.

Maybe there really _can_ be a ‘next time’.

“Alright,” he agrees and Claude grins as he heads for the door.

“Cool. Okay, listen - my car’s outside, but same time next week?”

Dimiri nods. There isn’t time to say anything in response because Claude is already out the door, but it feels… good, to have done this. It feels right, talking to someone with a clean slate. And sure, the guy could be a murderer or some kind of weirdo, given where he’s met him, but Dimitri isn’t exactly the type to throw stones in glass houses. And so he tries to stay optimistic for once, glances out the window of the waiting room and sees a small bird swoop down to perch on the branches of a nearby tree, and doesn’t hear any voices.

Claude. He said his name was Claude.

_

“You seem distracted.”

Dimitri looks back toward his therapist, offering her a slight, apologetic smile. He’d been staring out the window while she said something else, and realizes now how rude it had been.

“Yes - I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright. I was asking if you’d made any progress reaching out to your friends.”

There’s a pause and he glances away again, uncomfortable. This past week, he’d done little of the sort. Most days passed with nothing to show for it except for a new placeholder on Netflix and a few receipts mailed to him for food delivery. Dimitri tries not to feel guilty about it but recognizes that he should have probably put more effort into her advice.

She reads it on his face, but says nothing and waits for Dimitri to come out with it.

“I asked someone if they wanted to get coffee,” he mutters as if that will save him, “he turned me down.”

“I see. It can be hard to put yourself out there.” She looks sympathetic at least, and offers Dimitri a smile. “How do you feel about it?”

Dimitri wrestles with himself there, trying to figure out how to answer the question. She remains quiet and lets him work through it and after a moment he just sighs.

“I don’t know. Bad? I feel like - it’s for the best. He shouldn’t have to know me. I wouldn’t want to know me. And I feel like…” he turns his eye up toward the ceiling, speaking faster now that the floodgates have opened and his thoughts whirl on themselves, “-I feel like I shouldn’t have asked. There’s no point, I know how it’s going to end up. I’m going to freak out and he’s going to either suffer through me or walk away, and I don’t want either of those things, so good - good for him, good for me. He doesn’t deserve the shit I’d put him though.”

She makes a careful note on her pad of paper and nods, considering his words and gently setting the pen down. Dimitri feels flushed, vulnerable, and he turns away, clenching his teeth to fight back the swell of emotion that rises with that.

“I see. Let’s talk about your reaction. When you use the tools we’ve learned to look at your feelings objectively, what do they tell you?”

Dimitri groans and leans back against the couch, staring up toward the ceiling. He misses the small smile that she offers as a result and instead lets out a heavy breath, frustrated, annoyed, but trying to be good at the same time.

“That I’m…” He shrugs, lifting a hand helplessly. He tries to imagine himself as an outside observer to his conversation with Claude, tries to put it in a way that doesn’t make him hate himself for what he said and how he said it. “...that I’m blowing it out of proportion. He said ‘next time’, so it probably wasn’t that bad. But now I’m thinking about all those other things - about what’s going to happen if he says yes, and how I’m going to fuck that up.”

“Mmhm.” She murmurs, understanding. “I think that instead of feeling poorly about the result or what _might_ happen, you should consider what we’ve been talking about: try to find a thing to feel good about in this situation. You went out of your comfort zone and did something that you were afraid of. That took courage. You should compliment yourself for that, and you can use that experience next time. Instead of looking at it as something for you to ruin, look at it as something you can enjoy. Do you think you can do that?”

He closes his eye and thinks about Claude standing with his back to him in that ridiculous puffy jacket. He thinks about the way Claude held his phone, about his warm smile, despite him clearly feeling like shit. He thinks about the warmth in his eyes. He thinks about how it’s been a long time since anyone looked at him like that.

He doesn’t want to lose the possibility that Claude could look at him like that again, even if it means taking a risk. So eventually, Dimitri lets out a long sigh and nods.

“I guess I can try.”

_

“Oh, hey -”

Dimitri barely closes the door behind him before he suddenly hears Claude’s voice, and the shorter man quickly sets down one of the old magazines he’d been looking at and moves to stand, clearly in better spirits than he’d been last week.

“Dimitri, right?”

He has to very quickly get his shit together and reorient his focus from being in therapy-mode to actually interacting with another human being. Dimitri hesitates for a moment, caught off guard, before nodding mutely.

Claude smiles, eager, but then realizes that he may have been a tad overzealous and takes a step back, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck with a smile.

“Sorry. Looks like I’m the one who caught you in the emotionally vulnerable state today. Luckily,” he says with a small wink, “I’m talkative enough for the both of us. That is… if you were still up for that coffee?”

The rejection wasn’t just a ruse to get him to go away. Claude meant what he said, and Dimitri finds himself caught off-guard by it, but trying to remember the conversation he’d just had in the other room - _look at it as something you can enjoy_ \- and forces himself to smile.

“Yeah. I’d - I’d like that.”

_

There’s plenty of seats available and Dimitri chooses a space near the window, where he can clearly see the door as it opens and closes. He watches the comings and goings idly while Claude puts his order in.

It doesn’t take long before Claude slips into the chair across from him with a smile, his back to the door. He doesn’t turn to look at it like Dimitri might have. He watches Dimitri for a moment as he makes himself comfortable and the smile slowly fades from his lips, but never quite leaves his eyes.

Dimitri knows it’s impolite to stare and so he looks away after a moment, trying not to get into his own head about how awkward this already is. He probably should have tried to befriend someone he knew even a _little_ about - this guy is a total blank slate.

Maybe that was what he wanted, though? The whole point of meeting someone new is that they don’t know him. He just doesn’t know where to start.

“So…” Claude finally says, breaking the awkward silence, “I’m assuming neither of us really want to talk about our common ground in the mental health department… why don’t you tell me about what you do for a living?”

Dimitri tries not to wince and looks back down at the table with a shrug.

“I… uh. I lost my job, actually.”

“Oh! I’m sorry-” Claude tries to say, but Dimitri cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s fine. It happens. But - I was an EMT. I liked helping people. Or… trying to, anyway.”

Claude’s eyes widen and the familiar warm smile flutters to his face. “Wow. I’m sure you’ve seen a lot.”

There’s a pause and Dimitri glances away, remembering what it was like to do that sort of thing. To try and save people, as many as he could, to grab someone’s wrists and hold them down while administering the right thing to save them from their overdose, to do CPR and feel like he was doing all he could.

It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like a different lifetime all the same.

“What do you do?”

Claude shrugs, resting his chin in his palm, elbow on the table. “I’m a student. Master’s, philosophy - and yeah, I know I can’t do anything with it. I just have a really fun hobby that involves throwing money into bottomless pits.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Dimitri responds, his voice quiet but honest.

It seems to rattle Claude to hear that from him and his brow furrows for a moment, suspicious, maybe even a little hesitant.

“What were you going to say?”

“That… I think it’s admirable, to study something for so long. To try and figure things out, to answer all these big questions…” Dimitri shrugs, feeling self conscious, but continues. “You must be a really smart guy.”

It takes Claude a moment too long to respond with, “glad you recognize genius when you see it!” and in that moment, Dimitri can suddenly see the hesitation, the insecurity that looks so familiar to him that he’s surprised he’s not looking into a mirror. He remembers, suddenly, where they met and realizes that he has no idea what Claude could be going through. That just as this is a blank slate for him, it’s also one for Claude.

The table grows quiet again. Claude watches Dimitri like he’s trying to work out a complicated puzzle and when he finally speaks, it’s reluctant, guarded.

“So - and I realize that by asking this, I’m already adding one - but how many people ask about your eye?”

His eye. Dimitri frowns and Claude starts to say something, to take it back maybe, but he shakes his head, reaching a hand up to self consciously drag a thumb along the bottom of his eyepatch, reminding himself that it’s still there.

“I don’t mind. It’s mostly kids in grocery stores.” He lets out a long breath, opening his mouth as if to explain it, before closing it again. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s growing increasingly aware that he’s covered in what happened to him and it makes every conversation topic off limits.

How can Claude get to know him as a blank slate when the thing that colors his entire life is the thing that he’s most reluctant to talk about? Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he isn’t ready to meet a new person yet - but then again, maybe Claude will understand, given where they met.

He clears his throat awkwardly and fidgets with his hands, looking down at the table.

“I lost it in a fight. About six months ago.”

“Six months?” Claude asks, and his expression turns sympathetic. “Wow. I -”

They’re interrupted by the waitress bringing them their drink, setting Dimitri’s latte down in front of him and some kind of tea in front of Claude, along with a toasted bagel. Claude thanks her and she nods before heading back behind the counter.

“-anyway, I uh, I’m sorry,” Claude continues. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t know it was so recent.”

Dimitri shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly, looking down into his coffee. _You are not what happened to you,_ he thinks, reciting from memory, _you are not your illness_.

“There was an - I hate describing it as an ‘incident’, it sounds like something out of a movie,” Dimitri starts and when Claude just listens to him with his soft, accepting eyes, he continues, “but I don’t know what else to call it. A thing? Well, anyway.”

He swallows thickly, and for all that Claude had given him every out imaginable, he finds that it’s impossible to proceed without giving him something, because as much as it _isn’t_ him, it’s very much shaped the place he’s in now: his lack of a job, a social life, the eye, the therapy, everything that Claude could ask about is shrouded in landmines. 

And besides, he thinks darkly, this is red flag, dealbreaking stuff. It’s better to put it out in the open and let Claude know - it would be cruel to spring this on him if they were to ever grow closer.

“I hurt someone,” he finally admits, his fingers tightening on his cup, “badly. Lost my eye in the fight. I was arrested. Then institutionalized. Lost my job. Six months later, I’m here.”

The way Claude looks at him… Dimitri was afraid that it would be pity or disdain, but his expression hasn’t changed from the gentle curiosity, the warmth it had before. To his surprise, Claude seems to understand it.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks in the same tone of voice that his therapist uses, and Dimitri huffs out a soft laugh, though it’s not really funny.

“No. I just - that’s where I am right now. In life.” There’s a pause, and Dimitri clears his throat, his gaze still on the frothed milk in his cup. “I’m not… dangerous or anything. I was, um, undiagnosed then. But now I’m… you know, managing it for the first time. Figuring out what my life looks like now that I know.”

Claude’s finger elegantly traces the rim of his mug, dragging the string of the teabag around with it. Dimitri finds his gaze drawn to it, the slight ripple in the water as the teabag bobs around the drink.

“I think that’s brave,” Claude admits, his mouth drawing up into a smile, “what you’re doing. And - telling me, wow. I appreciate that.”

“You what?” Dimitri asks, incredulous and momentarily caught off guard by that smile. It’s mesmerizing, almost enough to take his mind off of Claude’s complete acceptance of his story. “You’re not -”

“I’m not.” Claude confirms it without Dimitri even having to say it, and he moves to take a sip of his tea, holding his mug in both hands. He looks at Dimitri over the rim of it, and Dimitri belatedly realizes that he hasn’t touched his own drink yet. “Mental illness runs in my family. I’m not in there for anything quite as… exciting, but I know how it feels, to be afraid that someone is going to walk away.”

Dimitri has to look at his coffee very quickly then, his brows furrowed as he mulls that over. He expects understanding from his therapist, his case worker, maybe even a friend or two - he doesn’t expect it from someone this new. Especially not someone like Claude who seems so much like he has his shit together.

“...thanks,” is what he finally says, and Claude offers him that smile again, the one that turns the rest of Dimitri’s thoughts into jelly.

_

They get coffee again. And again. Eventually it becomes routine, and Dimitri learns more and more about Claude: his father is rich and lives outside of the country, his mother is a foreign diplomat, his thesis is about the importance of choice and acceptance in the development of society. He likes word games and puzzles, he does a bit of pot here and there but doesn’t drink much, and he has an increasing number of opinions on the late-night bingeworthy shows that Dimitri recommends him.

He always looks surprised when Dimitri compliments him, and it always takes him just a hair too long to accept anything nice said about him. He was in a relationship that ended poorly - _I guess I tend to go after people who don’t seem to like me very much_ and he doesn’t speak to his parents at all - _they want me to make it on my own before they’ll accept me back_.

Whether it’s his gentle eyes or the way he holds his teacup or his unguarded smile, the one that offers just a flash of teeth with his chuckle... Dimitri finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with him. Their coffee breaks stretch longer, and longer, until one Sunday afternoon, the barista delicately informs them that the shop is closing.

“Oh, wow, has it really been that long?” Claude asks, blinking in surprise as he looks at his watch. Dimitri apologizes to her and moves to stand, taking his cup back up to the bar to return and glancing back toward Claude as he does the same.

“I’m not too far from here.”

Dimitri doesn’t really know why he says it; he has no intention of anything perverse, doesn’t really want Claude to see the inside of his house and the state it’s in, nor does he want Claude to pop in to use his bathroom and see the myriad of pill bottles by the sink, but he also doesn’t want to stop talking to him. He doesn’t want to stop looking at him. He doesn’t want to wait an entire week, just to see him again.

Claude seems impervious to the inner dilemma going on in Dimitri’s mind and smiles brightly.

“Oh!” he moves to bring his cup up as well, offering the barista a little wink before turning his attention back on Dimitri, “shall we go for a walk then? I can call a car from your place.”

Dimitri nods, not really trusting himself to say anything. What would he say? _I don’t want you to come in_? It would be rude, especially after he already brought it up, and he likes the idea of going for a walk with Claude regardless.

So they move, with Dimitri slightly in the lead as he points the street that he usually takes and sets off to walk in the chilly autumn air. Claude cheerily follows him, zipping up his coat as he scampers after Dimitri, his shorter legs forcing him to take faster strides just to keep up.

“So…” Claude asks, once he’s caught up and has an idea of where they’re going, “showing me where you live? That’s a pretty big step, right?”

Dimitri shrugs then, and he can feel the heat flushing to his face.

“No - I mean, yes. I mean… ugh.” He’s flustered, doesn’t quite know what to say, and Claude laughs it off, patting a hand against his back, between his shoulders.

“Relax, it was a joke. I can respect your space. To tell the truth, I just wanted to spend a little more time with you.”

Dimitri finds himself smiling, relieved suddenly that Claude seems to understand at least a little of his anxieties about the walk. And why wouldn’t he? Claude has proven to be nothing if not thoughtful, warm and understanding for the entire time that Dimitri has known him. It’s a certain kind of relief to know that he won’t be offended by what Dimitri says or by his insecurities.

“I want to spend more time with you too,” he finds himself admitting, stealing a glance at Claude from the corner of his eye. Claude is looking off toward the various apartment buildings that line the street, taking in the sight of the overcast sky beyond them.

There’s a silence there, but a comfortable one as Claude takes in the various boring sights on Dimitri’s walk home, his lips pursed, his expression thoughtful. His arms are slack, hands at his sides - ungloved, and not in his pockets, despite the chilliness of the air. Dimitri wants to reach out for his fingers but of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t do a lot of things.

“Hey,” Claude eventually says after a block or so, finally looking toward Dimitri with a small little smile, the kind of smile that Dimitri has learned is affectionate but mischievous at the same time. “You know how I - talked about my ex. And how you said that your ex bailed after the whole… incident, whatever.”

Dimitri nods, frowning as Claude brings up the memory again, of his partner pacing around the room of their once-shared apartment, of _I don’t know who you are anymore_ and _I can’t live my life afraid of getting another phone call from the police -_ but it’s short-lived because Claude continues talking, but this time he’s looking down at the concrete beneath their feet.

“Well, I mean, I’m assuming that it means that we’re both single. And I know that you’ve got way more pressing matters on your plate, but you’re so oblivious that I don’t know if you’d ever realize that I was waiting for you to make a move.”

Claude’s fingers curl and among other things, Dimitri realizes how close they’ve been to his hand this entire time. How Claude always fiddles with his tea and watches Dimitri watching him. How -

“You -”

“-so I’m just saying,” Claude cuts him off, talking a little faster now that Dimitri is starting to piece it together, “that when - or even if - you want to make one, I’m here.”

He’s silent. He doesn’t really know what to say. Sure, somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that maybe he’s not as subtle as he could be, that asking a guy to coffee and going with him on - dates? Were these dates? - for _weeks_ is a fairly blatant sign of his interest, that casually mentioning an ex, asking Claude about his own relationships, the surge in his chest that was probably hidden poorly in his expression when he realized that Claude was interested in men as well…

Of course Claude would pick up on it. What kind of person would continue going on these visits just to make an odd friend? Claude has other friends, Claude has a thesis he should focus on, his own problems to face, but Claude met him every week, Claude waited for him outside of the office and cheerily walked him down to the cafe.

Claude knew. And what’s more, Claude accepted it, _wanted_ it somehow, and wanted him. Still wants him.

Dimitri feels frozen, not sure of how to say what he wants to say or what to do in the face of that. He’s ruined everything he’s ever touched, but Claude - Claude knows going into this, the kind of person that Dimitri could be. Claude knows, and Claude still wants… something. He isn't sure what to make of that.

Claude clears his throat, a little awkwardly.

“Kind of, uh, putting myself out there,” he reminds Dimitri, shuffling his feet through the fallen leaves, “if you wanna like, say ‘oh cool, I’ll keep that in mind’ or even like, I dunno, ‘get the fuck away from me, you loser’, both of those are things you could say.”

“I -”

“Do you want a few more suggestions? Like, um, ‘hey let’s go back to my place right now and make out’ or like, you could say: ‘gee Claude, I’m actually straight even though I just told you about an ex-boyfriend’. Just throwing a few reactions out there for you, free of charge -”

Dimitri grabs his hand. Not in a demanding way, not to pull him in any direction, not to shut him up, just to touch it. He curls his fingers against Claude’s own and Claude _does_ shut up and looks down to where Dimitri is now holding his hand quite pointedly.

His heart is racing in his chest.

He wants him. He thought Claude was beautiful, even from the beginning, but his personality - his genuine acceptance, his intelligence - all of that only added and added until Dimitri wants him so much that he feels like his heart is going to explode.

But.

With that comes its own caveat, its own warning bell that lights up in his mind. He hasn’t felt this much and this passionately about anything in a long time. He’s organizing his life into simple and dull categories as he slowly puts it back together: he does his laundry, he orders takeout, he watches late-night television and falls asleep on the couch.

Claude is an explosion of life and color and one that scares him as much as it excites him. Dimitri stops walking and Claude stops too, biting his lip as Dimitri turns to face him, reaching for his other hand to hold it (it’s so soft in his own, smaller than his, warm despite the frigid air).

“I like you,” he finally says, and Claude finally looks up at him from under his lashes, a fragile smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dimitri doesn’t make him wait long.

“I need to… keep sorting my life out. I can’t make impulsive decisions based on my feelings right now, no matter how much I want to. It’s not a no, it’s… it’s…” he pauses, struggling to find the right word, and Claude supplies it for him, his smile turning a little sad.

“-it’s a ‘not yet’.”

“Yeah.”

Claude pulls away from him then, not quite rejected, but not accepted either, and Dimitri is reminded of the first time they spoke, when Claude had a car waiting and said _next time_.

He hopes that Claude is still willing to wait for next time.

“Alright. You and your emotional responsibility sure know how to get a guy like me going,” Claude tries to joke, and Dimitri chuckles, though neither of them really feel like laughing. “But, uh - listen, I think I need to save a little face here and head out.”

Dimitri reaches for him while Claude digs his hand in his pocket for his phone and winds up with a hand on his shoulder, feelings welling up inside of him even though he tried to be responsible, even though he wanted to avoid this. Claude walking away now feels like a defeat, not a victory.

“I meant it,” he tells him, earnest, genuine, willing Claude to meet his eye. When he does, Dimitri tries to convey how honest he is, how much he wants this, “I like you. I want to have you over and - take you out to dinner, I want to be the guy who tells you how much I like you every time you talk to me. I just need…”

He closes his eye then, wills himself to say it even though it makes him feel weak, even though he knows that it sounds like a flimsy excuse.

“- I need to get a baseline with my medication. I need to… to move slow and not make sudden changes. And I really need you to know that I’m doing this because the idea of hurting you is so - so unforgivable to me. Please.”

Claude’s lip trembles and he lifts a hand to Dimitri’s face, touching his cheek while he takes all of that in. His jaw goes tight, his brows knitting together and his fingers curl against Dimitri’s skin for a moment before he pulls himself away, letting out a groan of frustration.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” He says, and Dimitri would be surprised or offended by that, but Claude says it on a laugh, shaking his head. “If this was a rom-com, I’d have kissed you right there. Damnit, I want to. You’re so bad. You don’t even know how bad you are!”

“I…” Dimitri starts, but Claude is laughing and turning back to him, seemingly finding his resolve.

“Alright, you made your point. I’m more than happy to be in this ether of dating-slash-not-dating until you feel like you’re ready. No pressure, no nothing. We’ll just keep going like normal. Is that okay with you?”

Dimitri nods mutely, but can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face, a smile that matches Claude’s own while the shorter man finally gets his phone unlocked and punches in the coordinates to get a car.

And it… it feels good, to make that decision. It feels good to know that maybe he can change his patterns. That Claude will be there in the cafe the next week, and the week after that. That Dimitri can integrate him into his life without moving too suddenly and unbalancing things.

That he can kiss him, someday. That Claude wants to kiss him too.

It makes him feel… optimistic, in a way that he hasn’t felt in months. For the first time since the incident, a small kernel of hope rises in his chest and makes him feel warm, and as he watches Claude get into his Uber and shoot him a roguish wink, he thinks that maybe he really can move forward with his life - maybe there are good things waiting for him on the other side of stability.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is where the infamous "if we lived together, we could carpool to therapy" line on my twitter came from - unfortunately, that moment is way further down the timeline in this AU and I just couldn't write that much.
> 
> There's a lot of stuff under the surface with these two though, so it'd be a real shame if I didn't come back to it someday... it's always a possibility!
> 
> Follow me on twitter [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated) for more!


End file.
